


Early Christmas presents

by DerekMyStiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Derek, Blow Jobs, Everyone Is Alive, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Nemeton got tired and everyone is more or less happy, Scent Marking, Scott is the Alpha, Scott/Allison is just mentioned briefly, because everyone loves Sheriff, brief mention of Sheriff, they are both oblivious, very lame description of New Year's party I am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerekMyStiles/pseuds/DerekMyStiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has an apartment, a job and is part of Scott's pack. Life is finally, finally good, but then Stiles forgets his phone at Derek's place.</p>
<p>Takes place around Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sterek fic. Unbetaed, sorry about that, English is not my first language.  
> I suck at tagging (and tags will most likely change with later chapters) and love all the comments.
> 
> I got inspired by a post on Tumblr where someone wanted Derek to find nudes on Stiles' phone, so... If you are reading this, I hope you like it.  
> I don't really think it will have more than four chapters, but I am not making any promises. Please bear with me.

 

Derek has an apartment. As in actual apartment with walls and electricity and hot water. The furniture is minimalistic in design, but it is his, not what he found by the trash in some abandoned alley as it used to be before… Well, before everything just clicked in place after the Alpha pack left, after they dealt with witches and harpies and other things drawn by Nemeton. The darkness around the hearts of three teenagers didn’t go away, but they learned to cope, with help from others.

Derek also has a job as construction worker. It isn’t much, but then again, he doesn’t need money. But it was Stiles (who else, really?) who insisted that getting a job is what adults do and anyway, Derek didn’t mind working. It is a good way to pass time, since the pack is scattered over the country, finishing their bachelor degrees. The ones that stayed close – Scott (his alpha) and Stiles – are coming over at least once a month for weekend. The others always come back for holidays. Derek sometimes surprises himself by thinking that life is actually good.

 

It’s Christmas break and that means that whole pack is home for holidays. Well, majority of the pack is home and Stiles mostly spends his time in Derek’s apartment. The werewolf doesn’t mind. He would never admit that out loud, but he is actually glad. Stiles is…. Well, saying “just Stiles” wouldn’t cover it anymore. He is more confident, learned not to fidget and not to babble so much. He learned to be quiet and focused, allowing his genius to shine at university. He grew up into his long limbs, his shoulders got broader, his cheekbones even more chiselled… Not that his looks is what Derek noticed the most about him, of course. He just became aware of it as Stiles talked about his hook ups and dates and all the girls and guys hitting on him.

Derek isn’t jealous. He isn’t. He would just prefer not to hear all about Stiles being sexually active with people that are not Derek. That’s not jealousy, it’s just a pack instinct. Derek knows that Laura would laugh in his face. Mostly because Cora does just that every time they Skype. So okay, maybe Derek is royally fucked and completely gone on this young man who used to be the most annoying little shit ever. That happens. To people, anyway. Maybe not to Derek, but to people. He and Stiles are friends. Good friends, best friends, actually, ever since Stiles declared that during one night drinking out, after Scott ditched him for Allison. Again. And Derek won’t fuck up another relationship. Again. So that’s why he just nods and hums along as Stiles talks about his love life, because that’s what best friends do.

 

Christmas Eve is in two days and Stiles is, as usually, hanging out at Derek’s, packing up presents for his dad and Melissa and rest of his friends. Derek briefly wonders if any of those little packages is for him, but then quickly dismisses that thought, because Stiles is smarter than that. If he bought Derek something (and he sure did, at least Derek hopes so), he won’t pack it here.

“…And so I told Scott not to worry and just buy her that stupid ring, because Allison will know the difference between a Christmas gift and Scott proposing. Allison knows she is dating a hopeless romantic that is way too nervous about their first Christmas at their new place to actually propose to her on that same occasion. Mind handing me that red ribbon?” Stiles asks, because he may have learned how not to babble, but he sure loves to talk. Derek tosses him the red ribbon and Stiles swiftly catches it, flashing him a bright smile in thanks. Derek is glad that younger man is busy with presents, so he doesn’t notice the ends of his ears going pink.

“What did you get him?” Stiles asks after few minutes when he is done with present for… well, judging by the decent silver paper without any pattern, it’s for Boyd.  
“Him?”  
“Scott.”  
“Um, actually…” Derek blushes, because he didn’t plan on telling anyone, damn Stiles and his tendency to ask about everything. But Stiles is already giving him a curious stare, so Derek finishes: “It’s an old book of werewolf legends. I should rather say stories, because majority of them are true. It was in my family for generations and I thought… he is an alpha and he should know…” There are fingers loosely wrapped around his ankle now and Stiles is looking at him with soft smile. After a moment of silence, he mumbles, “I’m sure Scott will love it. How did you-“  
“It was in the storage. My parents, they… had too many books, too much of everything, really, so some things were just… kept there.”  
The fingers around his ankle tighten for a moment and then slip away completely as Stiles sighs. After a moment he says, “I should head home, dad’s shift will be over in about an hour and he will just order pizza if I don’t cook something.” Derek tries not to look disappointed, but by the quirk of Stiles lips, he doesn’t succeed.

 

Derek’s phone rings later that evening and when he glances at the screen, the caller’s ID says it’s the Sheriff, aka John, aka Stiles’ father. Derek’s heart immediately starts beating faster and he hates to admit that he gets scared. What if anything happened to… well, anyone?  
“Hello?”  
“Derek? It’s me, Stiles.”  
“Stiles? What do you need, did something happen?”  
“No, jeez, calm down. I just can’t find my phone, maybe it’s at yours place?”  
Derek quickly glances around and sure enough, phone is wedged between the pillow and the armrest of the couch. “Yeah, it’s here. Do you want me to drop it at your house?”  
“No… I will just… Can I come tomorrow?”  
“Sure.”  
“Um… if anyone calls, could you pick it up and tell them I will call back tomorrow?”  
“Yeah, no problem. Anything else?”  
“No, just… good night, Derek.”  
“Good night, Stiles.”

 

Derek is dozing off over his book when strange sounds pierces the silence. The werewolf leaps up on alert, only to realize that it’s Stiles’ ringtone. He reaches for it and picks it up, “Yes?”  
“Oh, who is that?”  
“Hey Scott, it’s Derek. Stiles left his phone here. So you can either call Sheriff or he will call you tomorrow.”  
“Okay. Sure. Thanks, bye.”  
“Bye.”

Derek glances at the phone, wondering when did Stiles get a new one as he absentmindedly swipes his thumb over the screen. Image gallery pops up, full of photos Stiles took. Derek knows he shouldn’t look at them, but then again, they are just pics. And judging by the first few ones, it’s mostly Scott, Isaac or people he doesn’t know anyway. He pads over to his bedroom, going through the gallery, but then he stops dead in his tracks. On the screen is… well, clearly, it’s Stiles, even though the head isn’t in the picture. Everything else is, though, the pale torso scattered with moles, one strong arm and long fingers (the same ones that were wrapped around his ankle earlier that day) resting lightly on the base of long, thick and very hard Stiles’ dick.

Derek gulps. He is getting hard in his sweatpants and his fingers shake as he tries to swipe over to next photo that will surely be as innocent as those before. Except it is not, because it’s a close up of Stiles’ dick, only this time it’s flushed, so red it looks painful and Derek winces in sympathy, because his own cock is starting to ache. He makes a quick decision and throws the phone on his bed, before marching off to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek is in his bed and he feels guilty as hell. It definitely wasn’t the first time he came with Stiles’ name on his lips, but never… never like this. Never because he invaded younger man’s privacy. He feels dirty. But when he tries to fall asleep, all he can see behind his eyelids are those photos and younger man’s smile and beautiful eyes. “Oh, fuck it,” Derek groans and reaches again for the human’s phone on his nightstand, quickly getting to the gallery. He hates to admit it, but he is delighted to find even more nude selfies. Before he knows it, he is thrusting up into his fist, little grunts and whines leaving his throats and then he is coming harder than ever before.

He is tired and haphazardly wipes himself down before it gets sticky. He keeps swiping through the photos, too spent now to get hard again anytime soon. He finds one obviously taken by someone else, because it shows (dressed) Stiles sitting hunched over the very same device as is now in Derek’s hand, smiling softly at the screen, his cheeks rosy with blush. The werewolf quickly sends it to his own phone and promises himself never to look at it again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning comes way too fast and Derek is not a morning person. So when Stiles lets himself in at ten o’clock, Derek is still in his bed, caught between sleep and waking up. There is a smell of coffee and the cinnamon rolls he loves so much, and when he pries his eyes open Stiles is leaning against the doorframe, two paper bags from the bakery around the corner in his hands. Derek is shocked to find that younger man looks so much like he belongs here, into Derek’s apartment, Derek’s life and his morning routine.

“Morning, Sleepywolf!” Stiles chirps and shuffles over to the bed before he plops down on the edge, handing Derek one of the bags. “You don’t mind eating in the bed, do you?” he asks around a mouthful of his roll. Derek briefly thinks that now he has to wash the sheets to get Stiles’ smell of them, but still shakes his head that it’s okay.

“So, my phone?” Stiles asks after he takes a sip of his coffee and Derek… well, Derek chokes on his breakfast, heaving and spluttering and he is sure that his eyes are pathetically wide with fear. Actually, Stiles doesn’t look any calmer, both of his hands in air, not really touching Derek as if he is afraid that he might break. Well, there goes any hope that he will act as if nothing happened. Eventually, Derek swallows around the lump in his throat and croaks: “On the nightstand.” Stiles hesitates for a moment before reaching for his phone. He seems to freeze for a second before he slips it into his pocket. “Scott called,” Derek adds into the silence. He knows he is probably all red, but hopes that Stiles will chalk it up to him nearly choking to death.

“Look…” Stiles says slowly and Derek briefly wonders if he somehow knows, but that thought is stupid, right? “Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I… I am making a dinner, but dad is having a night shift, so… Just… Ugh, would you like to come? And have a dinner? With… With me?” Stiles isn’t looking at Derek and fiddles with one of his sleeves, obviously nervous. Which is a bit weird, since they eat together quite often, but then again, this is special occasion. “Sure, I will come around seven?” Derek says and Stiles’ head snaps to him, that huge beautiful smile stretching over his face.

They spend the rest of the day lounging around Derek’s apartment, watching movies or reading books in silence and Derek wonders when it all started to feel so domestic. Just a few years ago, they were “frenemies”, as Stiles loves to call it and now… Well, ripping throats out isn’t really what Derek wants to do with his teeth now. Getting them on Stiles’ throat, yes, but to mark him, to nip and lick at the delicate skin until it bruises, letting everyone know that this bright, beautiful young man already belongs to someone and-

“Derek? Buddy? You okay there?” Stiles is looking at him funny and Derek suddenly realizes he has been staring at him for a few minutes, growling. Actually growling and now Stiles looks scared, he even smells a bit like fear and Derek hates himself for that; he curls up on himself and lets out a whine, “Sorry, I just… I don’t know what… I’m sorry, please don’t leave.”

Stiles stand up from the sofa he has been sitting on and slowly pads over to Derek’s armchair, holding his hands out to signal that he means no harm. But Derek is not looking at him and startles when a palm rests against his knee, its warmth seeping through the fabric of Derek’s sweatpants. “You are regressing here on me, don’t do that…” Stiles voice is soft as he continues, “I won’t leave you because you got a bit growl-y, you hear me? You want to talk about it or-“ Derek shakes his head. “Okay, no talking about it. You good, though?”

“Yeah, I just… I am good, thanks.”  
“No problem,” Stiles says and squeezes his knee a bit, before straightening and stretching his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up to reveal path of hairs leading from his navel down under his jeans. Derek barely manages to tear his eyes away, but it’s too late now, his mind is flooded with those photos on Stiles phone and he feels the blush all the way down to his toes, for fucks sake. He clears his throat awkwardly and mutters, “I will… uh, I will go for a run, I think it might help calming me down.”  
Stiles’ eyes narrow minutely, but he nods, “Sure, go ahead. Tomorrow at seven, okay? You don’t have to bring anything, just… just be there, please.”  
“Sure, see you tomorrow.”

 

Derek is appalled to find himself nervous. He changed his clothes three times before he finally settled for black jeans and dark green shirt. Then he spend half an hour buttoning and unbuttoning top buttons, not wanting to look too serious, but also not wanting to seem too casual, until he finally settles for two undone buttons, reasoning that it is just enough. And then he spend another hour wondering why does he care so much. He knows he… likes Stiles a lot, but up until he saw those damned selfies he has been dealing just fine. He learned how to control himself, how to push those feelings in the back of his mind and pretend they don’t even exist. Now? Now he is freaking out like it’s a date, like Stiles actually wants him back and that… that is throwing Derek off balance so much he even contemplates texting Stiles and lying that he feels sick.

Just as he dismisses that thought, his phone chirps. New text message is from Stiles, of fucking course, and it says: “Know I told u not to bring stuff, but could u stop for red wine? Thx.” Derek checks the clock. It’s half six, so he has hour and half and he might as well go already. He picks up his coat (“Wow, Derek, no leather? How fancy!” as Stiles said year ago when he got it as gift from Cora) and his car keys and leaves to the shop.

Honestly, Derek didn’t know there are that many brands of wine, but he guesses he is lucky Peter used to have a cellar in the house and commented on every wine he poured Derek’s parents when they were having dinner, so Derek avoids asking a clerk and picks something that should go with almost every type of meat. Then, because he is a pathetic idiot, he stops for a small bouquet of white roses. When he glances at his watch, he realizes he took more time than he expected and it’s already half seven.

When he pulls up next to Stilinski house, he has exactly five minutes, which come in handy, because he is freaking out. He runs fingers through his hair, takes a few deep breaths and gets out of the car. The doorbell rings through the house and Derek can hear Stiles swear, minute later the door open and Stiles looks flushed, his heart is beating too fast and he smells nervous and aroused and Derek wants to roll around in those smells. But instead, he clears his throat and hands Stiles the bottle of wine and the roses, “Hi. I, uhm, just thought… you know, something on the table…” and Stiles flushes even more, smiling like a loon. “Come on in, Derek.”

Turns out, Derek interrupted just as Stiles was adding final touches to the table, so they sit down right away. The werewolf was a bit afraid that the dinner will be awkward given the… special circumstances, but it was okay. In fact, it was completely normal dinner, the same as any other they had together. Stiles made a steak, which went wonderfully with the wine they picked. After they ate, Derek washed the dishes while Stiles dried and put them away.

“Thanks for help with that,” Stiles says, leaning against the sink.  
“It was nothing.”  
“Do you have to go already? I though, maybe…”  
“What is it, Stiles?” Derek asks and Stiles flushes again and the werewolf does really know what to do with it.  
“You want to watch a movie? We can watch Grinch or something, it doesn’t have to be Christmas-y…”  
“Grinch is okay.”

The movie has been on for about an hour and they are sitting in silence, their knees pressed together. Derek is kinda dozing off, except not really, he just feels so calm and safe that he could just put his feet on the coffee table and take a nap. Of course, that’s when Stiles nudges him with his shoulder and says with strangled voice, “So, I know you saw my nudes.”


	3. Chapter 3

Before Derek even has a chance to process what Stiles said, the younger man continues, “Or rather, I assume you saw them, since you saw the one Lydia took in October and sent it to yourself.” Stiles’ heart is beating fast and loud, but Derek knows his own isn’t doing any better. In fact, he kinda feels like puking, because he just knows he fucked up big times. He wishes he could just go back to glaring and growling, but he knows that Stiles is aware he actually can talk, since he is the one who made him talk in the first place.

“I… I am sorry. Really. Just… I didn’t think… I know they weren’t for me to see and-“  
“They were,” Stiles mumbles and Derek only gapes at him for a moment before he recovers.  
“What?”  
“They were for you to see. At least… when I took them, that’s it. Only, thank God, I never managed to actually send them to you, because I passed off like two minutes later when I came. In my defence, I was totally smashed!”  
“But… what?” Derek knows, in the back of his head, that he is repeating himself, but… the photos were for him?  
“Remember how I called you piss drunk in November? Complaining about that perfect guy who went through so much, constantly blames himself for everything and never actually notices the pathetic human being Stiles Stilinski?”  
Derek is taken by surprise by the change of the topic, but this time he at least manages coherent thought, “Yeah, I remember yelling at you to never again call yourself pathetic, because you are not.”

Derek actually said more. He might have mentioned that the other guy is obviously a complete idiot if he doesn’t realize how bright Stiles is and that he should have his eyesight checked if he doesn’t notice how beautiful Stiles is and how his whole face lights up when he smiles. Derek kinda, sorta had a moment. But Stiles, as mentioned, was nearly blackout drunk and just kept mumbling something about stupid leather kink and walls – Derek didn’t really understand.

As if Stiles is reading his mind, he says, “That’s not everything you said do me, is it?”  
“You… you remember?”  
“Well, yeah.”  
“Uhm…” Derek says intelligently, because that was actually the first time in years when he told anyone how he felt about them and he believed… hoped that it was lost in the air between the two of them, miles and miles separating him from Stiles.  
“I was talking about you, you know,” Stiles nearly whispers.  
“I am… I am an idiot,” Derek says and the younger man smiles, bright and perfect and all of sudden, “Yeah, Derek. You are.”

They sit for a while just smiling at each other like a pair of loons, until Stiles asks, his voice laced with curiosity and his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline, “So… what did you do with those photos? I mean… when you saw them.”  
Derek blushes and looks down before mumbling, “I, well, you know… Liked them… a lot.” And Stiles just laughs and laughs, until Derek can’t take it any longer and lunges at him, smashing their lips together in nearly painful kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It’s not graceful and it’s not pretty, it’s a fight for dominance spiced by actual years of sexual tension between the two of them.

When they part they are both panting and Derek just hides his smirk in Stiles neck, breathing him in. They stay like it for a few minutes, just holding each other in silence, until Stiles wonders, “Why did you sent that pic to your phone?”  
“You looked beautiful there,” Derek blurts out before he can think better of it, but by the way human’s eyes shine, he guess it was the right thing to say.  
Stiles blushes before he admits, “I was just reading one of your texts, you know, when Lydia took it. She threatened to send it to you, telling me that we are both stupid and we need to open our eyes. I had to take her clothes to the dry-cleaners for whole month in order to keep her from doing that. Maybe I should have listened to her, she is always right.”

But Derek isn’t really paying attention, too busy kissing under Stiles’ jaw, not really able to stop himself now, when he finally, finally got to touch and taste. His hands move almost reverently over younger man’s body, his chest, arms, the back of his neck and Stiles just sighs and says, “Derek… Der, I am not going anywhere.”  
“God, I hope so. I wanted this, wanted you…”  
“Yeah, fuck… yeah, I’ve wanted you too, for so long,” Stiles murmurs as he wraps his arms around werewolf’s neck and threads his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. “But we don’t have to rush this.”

Derek is off him immediately, looking sheepish and ready to apologize, but Stiles reaches for his hands and entwines their fingers, “Hey, calm down, would you? I just mean… I don’t want to push you and make you regret it…”  
“Stiles…”  
“Shut up?” the younger man offers and Derek rolls his eyes.  
“Yeah, shut up and listen to me… I would never… regret anything with you. Unless, you know… you did.”  
“Yeah, no, that’s surely not gonna happen, so… feel free to continue, I guess.”

Derek doesn’t need to be told twice, his lips finding Stiles’ pulse point immediately, determined to make a hickey. Stiles tips his head back to give him more access and the wolf in Derek rumbles at that, pleased to be accepted, while Stiles just laughs breathlessly, “God, is this gonna be a thing? You growling during sexy times?”  
“If you say ‘sexy times’ one more time, I’m leaving.”  
“You are not, shut up, just… scent-mark me or whatever, it turns me on,” Stiles squeaks and flushes immediately and Derek grins at him; wolfishly, of course.  
“I will try to remember that.”  
“You are the actual worst, Derek Hale!”  
“But you like it,” Derek says and then has a mild panic attack over younger man’s possible answer, until Stiles sighs, “Yeah… Yeah, I do.”

 

When Sheriff comes home from his night shift on Christmas morning, he finds his son sprawled on the ex murder suspect in the middle of his living room, snoring peacefully. The TV is still on, Grinch DVD menu playing main theme over and over again. He just shakes his head and mutters, “About fucking time.”


	4. EPILOGUE

The pack is spending the New Year at Stilinski’s residence, because… well, nobody really knows. The main thing is that there is a New Year’s party and Derek and Stiles are finally together. The Sheriff is a bit grumpy about the whole thing, because Derek wasn’t actually asleep when Sheriff arrived home on Christmas morning and therefore any form of intimidation is pointless. Sure, he tried to mention that he actually has wolfsbane bullets now, but Stiles (that little bastard) just laughed in his face, saying, “Don’t lie, you secretly love it that I snatched such a handsome guy!” Sheriff just rolled his eyes at his son’s antics, before trying to give Derek one more glare. The werewolf at least tried to look sheepish and intimidated.

Anyway, now he is at New Year’s party, surrounded by his pack, his lover in his lap and… god, how perfectly that sounds in his head when he says that Stiles is his lover? Derek didn’t even dare hoping and well… let’s say he must have been a very good boy, because Santa brought him exactly what he wanted. Speaking of Stiles, he got a hold on beer and is a bit tipsy; his whole being is glowing, there is a glint in his eyes and wicked smiles on his lips. Every five minutes he smashes his face in the crook of Derek’s neck, his hot breath making the werewolf shudder. Derek tries hard not to grow claws and tear all the clothes off younger man’s body as everyone mills around, chatting about everything and nothing, just enjoying themselves.

As the midnight finally comes, Derek sweeps Stiles into his arms and kisses him breathless, grinning like a fool afterward for whole fine minutes, until Cora throws a pillow on his head.

 

It’s four in the morning, almost everyone already left (they either live right across the road – Scott in tow with Allison and his mom, or they declared there is no way they are sleeping on a mattress on a floor – basically everyone else) and Derek just throws Stiles over his shoulder, marching up the stairs to his room. When he drops him on the bed, Stiles starts to giggle, but the sounds die down when Derek pulls his henley over his head. Stiles stays quiet as Derek slowly, but efficiently undresses him, pressing kisses to every part of newly exposed skin – by the time Stiles is only in his boxers, he is already hard and squirming, his hips making a little abortive thrust, seeking for any kind of friction.

“God, you smell so good…” Derek groans against Stiles’ navel, nipping at the soft skin of his belly.  
“You… You… fuuuuck,” is all Stiles manages to let our as the werewolf pulls his underwear down his thighs and licks over his groin. And again. And again. And then he stops. “Why did you stop?” Stiles whines and lifts his head to look at Derek, who is staring intensely at him.  
“I want to blow you,” the werewolf says, voice deep and strained with lust.  
“Fuck. Fuck!” Stiles just sputters and Derek lifts his eyebrow in silent question.  
“Yeah, do it, go ahead, head first, no, that was wrong one, I mean– ah, ah, ahhhh yes,” Stiles’ back arches off the bed as Derek takes his dick into his mouth and hums around him, savouring the unique taste.

He keeps licking and sucking on the head and his hand moves to the base of Stiles’ dick, tugging lightly, making younger man keen. He pulls off with a pop, “You are so hot like this…” He licks over the vein on the underside of Stiles’ cock and younger man claps hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the moans that escape his throat. But Derek just runs his hands up his thighs and murmurs, “Don’t… want to hear you…” which makes Stiles flush all the way down to his chest. Derek goes back to sucking and licking and tugging, taking Stiles apart. When Derek moves his hand down to his balls, Stiles almost loses it, only his want to make it last forever helps him to hold off. But then Derek’s fingers move even lower and circle his hole and Stiles shouts and arches off the bed as Derek’s sucks him dry, swallowing down every drop of his cum.

Stiles just lies there panting, huge grin on his face, as he is getting down from his high. After a few moments he realizes that the little grunts are actually coming from Derek, who has his head pressed against Stiles’ thigh and desperately humps the bed.   
“God, come here you idiot, come here, here,” Stiles mutters as he pulls Derek up, sealing their lips together while his fingers wrap around the werewolf’s dick, already leaking precome, which Stiles quickly smears all over his length. He doesn’t even have to do anything, because Derek just fucks up into his grip a dozen times and he is coming in long spurts, his mouth latching onto Stiles’ shoulder, teeth biting into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but not enough to pierce skin.

They lie there, panting, Stiles’ hands are running over Derek’s back in soothing motions as the werewolf shakes against him. “We should clean up,” Stiles quips and Derek just grunts. Then he adds, “Smells like us. You… like me.”  
Stiles can only close his eyes, “God. Why do I find this hot? Alright, alright, whatever you want…” He sticks a hand between their bodies, smearing Derek’s cum all over his belly. When Derek notices, he just growls and growls until he moves down to rub it into a skin some more, only to lick it all up after. Then he sighs contentedly and rests his head against younger man’s chest, ready to doze off, when Stiles pipes up, “Um, lover boy… you made me hard again.”

Derek just laughs until he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... yeah. I am sorry it took so long to finish, but you know, holidays and relatives... unfortunately no epic love story for me, but hey... IT'S DONE!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
